Month: July 2025

In The Irish Butterfly Book, I wrote about the brood structure (the number of generations) produced by the Cryptic Wood White Leptidea juvernica, one of Ireland’s most mysterious butterflies, present also in Europe but curiously absent from Britain:

While it is double-brooded in parts of Europe (Eeles, 2019), it has proven to be single-brooded in Ireland (but see below). This species has remained single-brooded even in the hottest summers, such as the summer of 2018. None of the eggs from Kildare reared by Peter Eeles in the South of England in 2018 went into a second brood, whereas all the Wood Whites Leptidea sinapis he reared from English stock did (Eeles, 2019).

However, on September 2nd 2020, I caught a freshly emerged male in a hedged lane at Mulhussey, County Meath, seven weeks after the last adult Cryptic Wood White was seen in the area. This is the first confirmed identification of a Cryptic Wood White flying several weeks after its usual flight period in Ireland ended. Interestingly, the undersides (of the individual caught) look paler than in a first brood, and the black wingtip on the forewing upperside appears to be more extensive. While finding this individual butterfly cannot be interpreted as evidence that the species can be double-brooded in Ireland, the finding raises questions. Did the early start to its flight period in 2020 and the warm, sunny weather, which lasted from April to the beginning of June, encourage a second flight, albeit by one or a small number of individuals? Is it therefore single-brooded in Ireland because of the climatic and ecological conditions? If so, will the warming climate and the resulting longer growing season for plants cause the species to emerge earlier in the year and fit in a second generation? Or is the Cryptic Wood White in Ireland genetically programmed to be single-brooded, and the specimen found a late emergent? The answers should emerge, with changing conditions, over time.

That time might be here.

Several Cryptic Wood Whites have been recorded in Northern Ireland late in July, but just one in the south, in Kildare. Between 14 and 19 were seen at 6 sites in Northern Ireland (7-8 at Navan Fort and Quarry, Co. Armagh; 2-5 at Craigavon Lakes, Co. Armagh; 2 at Colin Glen Forest, Co. Antrim, 1-2 at Umbra Dunes, Co. Londonderry; one at Murlough, Co. Down, and one at Belfast Harbour Estate, Co. Down.

Another record from the north, from Carrowhugh, near Inishowen Head, Co. Donegal, from July 30th, by Con O’ Donnell, adds to the northerly bias of these late July records. Only a single record for late July comes from the south, from Cadamstown, Kildare, on July 24th, from James O’Neill. This adds to the mystery. The tendency to produce further generations in Ireland (and in Europe generally) typically decreases further north. For example, the Holly Blue can produce three generations in Cork, in the south of Ireland. In Donegal, in the northwest of Ireland, the Holly Blue produces one brood a year.

We would like to know if this species is changing its habits. Interestingly, the weather so far in 2025 resembles the conditions in 2020, the last year a late emerging Cryptic Wood White was seen.

If its brood structure is changing, there are implications for how we deal with herb-rich edges along hedges and wood edges and wilder grassland in managed areas.

Please check areas that you know contain Cryptic Wood White butterflies in spring, and let us know if you find any, or if you don’t. 

Send your butterfly records to us by email to: conservation.butterfly@gmail.com.

Let us know:

your first name/s, and surname/s, 

your contact details (typically an email address),

date of find,

species found,

the life stage/s found,

numbers seen,

location the butterfly/moth was found (e.g. site name, townland name, county),

six-figure grid reference, including the letter identifying the 100,000-metre grid square in which the location lies (from http://www.gridreference.ie/ or Discovery Series maps)

weather conditions

and any other interesting comments you wish to provide.

Example: John Doe (30/07/2025)

Cryptic Wood White 1, Common Blue 5 at N 95856 10275, Native Woodland Trust reserve, Burgage, Co. Wicklow. Sunny spells, 20 Celsius.

References

Eeles, P. (2019) Life Cycles of British & Irish Butterflies. Pisces Publications, Berkshire.

Harding, J. (2021). The Irish Butterfly Book. Privately published, Maynooth.

 

The rain is beating heavily on the skylight as I type, the drumming patter and light-swallowing gloom projecting me to a juxtaposed childhood, with confinement and feral freedom vying for prominence in memory.

A 1970s childhood is incomparable with today’s. Technology and the radically different parental outlook on safety are key drivers of the shift from the era when children roamed at will and reappeared when hunger, cartoon time, or bedtime beckoned to an IT-dominated, sedentary life where outdoor activity, when it occurs, is adult-supervised. Rare are the impromptu games that kick off when one of the boys shows up with a new plastic football; games are now scheduled; parents drop off and collect their offspring. Values are quite different, with media playing a greater role in shaping moral values and social mores.

Change brings benefits and drawbacks. We have less contact with the outdoor world, yet ironically, the concern for the condition of the natural environment is greater than it was, despite the loss of nature that occurred well before and during the 1960s and 1970s. More of us say we are worried about the state of nature than the public expressed fifty years ago. I cannot help but feel that some of this is armchair or couch concern, fed by generalised anxiety that is grievously prevalent in contemporary Western society. Deeper empathy comes from contact with nature.

My parents were happy or unhappy. When they were happy, I could disapparate, to use J.K. Rowling’s verb for vanish. Rambling the fields and hills alone or with friends, life was great. Bird nest hunting, pursuing and catching butterflies, looking for Fox dens, Hedgehogs and Badger setts, collecting frogspawn…you name it, we did it.

I was given an arbitrary time to be home by, which I divined by the severity of stomach rumblings or the arc of the sun across the sky or the onset of conscience, quickened by fear of the consequences of lateness, which could be unpleasant.

When my parents were unhappy, life at home reflected that, a pathetic fallacy realised. This could last for days, and confinement indoors followed.

One thing my mother couldn’t abide was grass seed stitched into our socks, an inevitability when traipsing through knee-high grasses of the hay-making era. She set out the conditions for allowing me out, and avoiding grass seed in socks (with her poor English, mum called them ‘nettles’) was one, and utterly unfulfillable. When I returned, socks riddled with seed, consequences occurred.

Mum knew that I would agree to anything for permission to go out, and this was milked. Sometimes the domestic servitude release conditions were so onerous that it wasn’t worth complying: scrub the kitchen floor on hands and knees, hoover the house, wash and dry the dishes, play with your brother and sister (for how long?), do the shopping and then you can go out, as long as you don’t get nettles in your socks.

I recall my surprise at once being offered a choice of punishments: a few smacks or being locked in my bedroom for the rest of the day. The wooden spoon was chosen. Physical punishment, however unpleasant, was brief. After it was administered, parental guilt meant I was allowed to head for the hills. 

I was confined in my room.  I’d shown my hand. Furious at being tricked and incarcerated, I lay on my bed and cried bitterly. The sun shone outside, laughing at my imprisonment. Think of all the butterflies I was missing. All my friends would be out looking for recently arrived Red Admirals.

There I lay, staring at a white ceiling instead of a blue sky. Perhaps a gang of pals would call to the door asking if I could go out. That might do the trick. Sometimes my mother relented because she’d feel guilty. That didn’t happen that day.

But something good did. The top bedroom window was open, and in danced the most beautiful Small Tortoiseshell butterfly I have ever seen. It fluttered round the bedroom, tossed itself against the brilliant white ceiling, carefully searching for a hideout. I was paralysed with wonder. The usual orange ground colour of the uppersides of the Small Tortoiseshell was instead a deep red, like the pure, dreamlike crimson of Mabille’s Red Glider Cymothoe mabille or even the Blood-red Glider Cymothoe sangaris, both species of Central African forests.

My usual reaction to seeing a butterfly in flight was to sprint in its direction. Spellbound, I lay still. Admiration inspired stillness. What I didn’t know is that this messenger from the world of sunshine has a topographical memory. Egg-laying females lay large clusters of eggs under the leaf of a nettle located near or at the top of a Stinging Nettle. Egg-laying females are frequently disturbed by birds or mammals. The disturbed female flies away from the egg-site, in a straight line, up to 17 metres from their unfinished cluster, returning to resume egg-laying when the disturbance has ended. When a nettle containing an unfinished egg cluster is moved, the female returns to the original position of the nettle, not to the place to which it has been moved. The female is relying on spatial memory, not on scent, to relocate her egg cluster.

Neither mating nor egg-laying was on the mind of this mythical butterfly. It didn’t blunder into my room. The butterfly was looking for an overwintering spot. From mid-July to early August, a small minority of our Small Tortoiseshells are non-reproductive. Instead of mating and laying eggs and dying, these long-lived Small Tortoiseshells are feeding to lay down the fat needed to hibernate. It seems very strange to think of Small Tortoiseshells and Commas hibernating in July and early August. This pre-overwintering behaviour is typical of most autumn Small Tortoiseshells because most are programmed to delay breeding until the following spring, after hibernation. However, a  few Small Tortoiseshells must breed in late August and perhaps in early September; this would explain the presence of caterpillars at the end of September.

There are a few clues as to whether a Small Tortoiseshell belongs to the reproductive cohort or the reproductive delay population. One is the time of the year. Between March and mid-July, all or nearly all Small Tortoiseshells are direct breeders.

Another is place. Breeding Small Tortoiseshells are found near nettles, less often in gardens and flower-rich habitats. Flower-rich locations are the places where overwintering Small Tortoiseshells gather to get ready for hibernation.

Another indicator is behaviour. Courtship, which involves a lengthy flight with male following female, who appears completely disinterested, will be observed in the general countryside and wilder parks, especially near nettle beds. Males establish territories to locate females. These are often in and near nettle beds but sometimes on sun-soaked tracks and near walls to intercept females that are seeking egg-laying sites.

A certain way to identify a direct-breeding male Small Tortoiseshell, Comma and Peacock is to show an object in his eye line. Non-reproductive males and all females ignore the missile. Breeding males fly at the airborne object.

Small Tortoiseshells seen feeding on flowers in late summer and autumn, often concentrated in large numbers, and very easy to approach, are in reproductive diapause. These are second and probably third generation butterflies (the number of generations depends on latitude, climate and very likely, the weather in any given year). These autumn butterflies will join their uncles and aunts that entered hibernation in summer.

I didn’t know this at the age of ten. My gorgeous Small Tortoiseshell, its inspection over, headed back towards the open window. Too late, I thought of shutting it. The bringer of colour, wonder and sunshine was gone. I sprang to the window to follow its flight, but I never saw him again.

The following day, I asked my friends if they’d seen him. They hadn’t.

I hadn’t missed out after all.

Photographs © J. Harding

July 2025 has provided much warmer and sunnier weather than its two predecessors, allowing our butterflies to thrive without being harmed by wet, cold conditions that damage populations. The butterflies flying in early July are still on the wing but are becoming faded. The following article, looking at mid-July butterflies, is based on reports submitted to our 2025 Record page.

A star of the Irish, English and European woods is the magnificent Silver-washed Fritillary. Only one of the 45 fritillaries that occur in Europe is larger, and none have the graceful flight and astonishing courtship ritual that gives this characterful butterfly its popularity among butterfly lovers.

It breeds within woods and mature scrub, but it is often met in clearings and wood edges containing flowers, especially Bramble. The distribution map in  An Atlas of the Butterflies in Ireland 2010-2021 shows an increase in recorded 10 km squares from 248 squares before 2010 to 422 squares in 2021, suggesting that it is thriving in Ireland. It does not occur within typical commercial coniferous plantations or woods or parts of woods containing mainly non-native trees like Sycamore and Beech. It needs well-lit woods on wet and drier soils containing Common Dog-violet among dry plant litter for the caterpillar and nectar for the adult, especially Bramble and Creeping Thistle. Counties that contain the highest number of recorded squares per area are Wicklow, Kildare and Wexford in Leinster, Fermanagh in Ulster, Clare and Cork in Munster and Galway in Connaught (Harding et al., 2025).

A fellow woodland denizen, but much scarcer and more elusive than the Silver-washed Fritillary, is skulking in some of our oak woods now. The Purple Hairstreak is strictly arboreal, loftily ensconced in foliage sprays of Sessile and Pedunculate Oaks, but it is not well distributed. Its caterpillar and adult feed on oaks, so it is fully reliant on oak woods. Oak woodland, especially lowland oak woodland, is rare in Ireland. The butterfly occurs in two of Dublin’s parks, St. Catherine’s Park, Lucan, and Phoenix Park, near Castleknock and in woodland on a farm in Lucan. Unsurprisingly, Wicklow holds populations along with Carlow and Wexford. Elsewhere, Fermanagh, Derry, Galway, Clare, Laois, Tipperary,  Kilkenny, Waterford, Kerry and Cork have populations, while in Sligo, Roscommon, Mayo and Limerick it is recorded from just a single 10 km square. There are no records for the remaining counties in Ireland in the recent Atlas maps (Harding et al., 2025). 

Another woodland species, but one that loves gardens, especially in suburban and urban areas with mature shrubs and trees, is the highly successful Holly Blue. This diminutive, gleaming garden gem is now just beginning to hatch its second generation. Flashes of violet, somewhat metallic blue, are frequent in sunshine in our wooded parks and gardens, hedges, and woodland, but close views are rarely afforded to us in warm, sunny weather. Let the sun be obscured by cloud, and this shining jewel settles into the foliage, vanishing despite its pale, greyish-blue undersides. The Holly Blue is busy contradicting its name in summer by breeding on Common Ivy. It is the Holly Blue in spring, the ‘Ivy Blue’ during summer and autumn. Seasonal dimorphism is evident in the female, with the summer female showing an extended black forewing apex.

We are staying in sylvan haunts for our next species, continuing with our second-brood theme and a new seasonal look. The summer season’s model is quite dowdy. The spring hatch of the Speckled Wood has deep chocolate upper surfaces spangled with large, rich cream spots. The summer edition is often paler brown with paler, smaller, less vivid spots. The summer males behave differently from their dads, showing a tendency to patrol their territory at a greater pace, creating the appearance of far greater aggression. The seasonal difference is attributable to increased temperatures. Cooler spring weather dictates greater time spent perching over patrolling. The ladies behave differently, too. Spring females lay their eggs in warm areas bathed in sunshine. In hot summer weather, shaded, more humid sites are favoured.

We are not leaving the woods, but our next butterfly likes more open habitats too. There are plenty of splendid scarlet-on-velvet black migrant Red Admirals on the go now. Many are females, laying frantically, suggesting a pent-up ovipositing urge unleashed following their arrival from overseas. Most of the Red Admirals have been extremely wary and almost impossible to approach closely. Speculating on reasons for their skittish demeanour, I have seen Painted Ladies behave in a similarly unsettled manner when arriving in an area, but they disappeared when I checked them the following day. Migrants will feed and possibly lay a few eggs in an area and move on, continuing their journey until they eventually settle in a district. Butterflies that have recently emerged can also be unsettled and highly wary.

The Large White is having a good summer, with records arriving from across the country. This widespread butterfly is a generalist and can turn up almost anywhere, but avoids intact bogland. This butterfly has declined greatly in abundance, with a 74% decline during the period 2008-2024. However, this might be improving; during 2015-2024, the abundance trend shows a 31% decline (Judge & Lysaght, 2025). This shouldn’t create confidence; taking a trend from a downward shifting baseline can obscure the extent of a decline. Grow brassicas and Garden Nasturtium Tropaeolum majus for this handsome, elegant butterfly.

One of the world’s most stunning, multi-coloured butterflies is widespread in Ireland, and its population is stable. It is beginning to appear now and first turned up in my garden yesterday (July 16th). Is anyone ever blasé about seeing a Peacock?

If you are doing Butterfly Conservation Ireland’s National Garden Butterfly Survey, keep a close eye on your garden. Mine is bursting with activity, making me reluctant to go out exploring. What better way to enjoy nature than on your doorstep?

The National Garden Butterfly Survey form is available here: 

https://butterflyconservation.ie/wp/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/National-Garden-Butterfly-Survey.pdf

References

Harding, J and Mapplebeck, P. (2025) Silver-washed Fritillary (Argynnis paphia). Pp 90-91. In Harding & Lysaght (2025) An Atlas of Butterflies in Ireland 2010-2021. The National Biodiversity Data Centre. Waterford.

Judge, M and Lysaght, L.(2025) The Irish Butterfly Monitoring Scheme Newsletter, Issue 17. National Biodiversity Data Centre

Rippey, I. (2025) Purple Hairstreak (Favonius quercus). Pp 66-67. In Harding & Lysaght (2025) An Atlas of Butterflies in Ireland 2010-2021. The National Biodiversity Data Centre. Waterford.

The weather in Ireland in early July 2025 is so-so. Not hot, not cold, not sunny, but not raining heavily. Unlike in 2024, Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock caterpillars are being frequently seen on nettles as both butterflies rebuild after two years of wet weather.

Populations are higher this year, but not abundant. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it suffered enormous damage on a single day in 443 AD when an earthquake struck central Italy, as the Mount Vettore fault system ruptured. The damage caused by a massive event can be irreparable or take a long time to resolve.

I have not recorded a Garden Tiger moth in my garden since 2015. Damage is therefore ongoing, so my advice is never to turn one’s nose at a common butterfly. Celebrate each; you never know when we may lose them.

All photographs above were taken in early July 2025.

All photos copyright Jesmond Harding.